“To send light into the darkness of men’s hearts—such is the duty of the artist.” —Robert Schumann
Hello, everyone, and thank you for stopping by my website.
My name is Slayde, and I’m a self-taught artist who’s transitioned into pop art over the past few years. Pen and ink pointillism on paper used to be my forte, but I had to step away from it as it became way too time-consuming. That said, I’ve updated some of those older drawings in Photoshop over the past few years by adding color, and they’re now available for sale.
Photoshop has been a blessing for me; not only does it allow me to create new paintings digitally, but it also lets me scour the internet for countless images, then cut and paste them to build my pop art pieces. That’s how my collage, The Beast, came together; a mix of digital collage and traditional drawing developed over two years.
More recently, I’ve been experimenting with new AI technology, reviving old, worn-out, and blurred photos of iconic figures and incorporating them into my Photoshop work as well. Aside from The Beast, many of the images you see on my site are often a mix of different mediums and styles. I don’t like to paint myself into a creative corner.
Injecting my politically incorrect opinions, offbeat humor, cynical mindset, and the things I love to hate into my work is a big part of my creative process — especially in The Beast. Jerry Seinfeld once said on The Tonight Show starring Jimmy Fallon, “I am a very happy person, hating everything throughout my entire life… And then I’m going to complain about it, which is something I do enjoy. I love complaining, that’s what I like. I love complaining, my entire act is me complaining.” That’s not my entire act, but it is a big part of who I am. It comes out verbally, digitally, and on paper. They say great minds think alike, and I love that Jerry loves to hate and complain as much as I do.
When I sat down to write this “About Me” page, I came across an article that said I’m supposed to solve a problem for you — the buyer — a so-called “pain point.” In other words, I should figure out what annoys you and then offer a solution. Personally, I don’t think that applies to art. Art is a deeply subjective purchase. If you see something that makes you feel good, something you’d love to live with and show off to friends and family, then my job is done. You don’t need me hanging around for that.
What I can promise is that any piece you purchase will be printed on top-quality paper, canvas, or metal, produced by the best in the business: Powerhouse Arts in Brooklyn. And if your piece requires framing, it will be done to the same high standard. I’m also with you every step of the way after your purchase, offering excellent customer service, even if it means picking up the phone to make sure everything’s right with your order.
Since I’ve lived a pretty nutty, one-of-a-kind life, here are just a few highlights from my journey. Should we ever meet, I’d be more than happy to share the stories behind them, including what it was like growing up in the 60s and 70s as a semi-juvenile delinquent in the beautiful, affluent suburb of Scarsdale, New York, just 30 miles outside Manhattan.
At age 11, in 1969, I landed a co-starring role in a made-for-TV movie opposite Fran Allison of Kukla, Fran and Ollie.
I was smoking and drinking in my favorite Chinese restaurant at age 14.
I first fell in love, not with a girl, but with the glitter rock scene of the early ’70s. Wanting to be like many of my rock ’n’ roll idols, I would sometimes dress the part throughout high school, wearing everything from torn bell-bottom blue jeans to pink velvet ones, pairing them with my assortment of high-heel shoes and boots.
I got kicked out of college, the Fashion Institute of Technology, after two years, thanks to a mix of terrible grades, my bad and erratic A.D.D. behavior, and a case of undiagnosed panic disorder, all of which carried over from high school.
I had lunch with my hero, Andy Warhol, at the Factory in 1978.
I designed T-shirts for Keith Richards, another hero of mine, during the 1981–82 Rolling Stones tours, which led me to launch my own T-shirt business in my parents’ garage — a venture that eventually exploded beyond my wildest dreams.
After losing that business following 9/11, I somehow ended up managing a beachfront estate in Hawaii, working as a property manager, concierge, and personal chef for a wealthy family, despite having zero experience.
Now, in my mid-60s, while so many are looking forward to retirement, I’m hoping the nuttiness (along with a few more great surprises) continues full speed ahead.